


the righteous will ever win

by 님 (nymmiah)



Series: dotharli [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Au Ra Xaela Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Bloodplay, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, F/M, Fighting Kink, Healing, Intercrural Sex, Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Size Difference, Trans Female Character, Zenos yae Galvus being Zenos yae Galvus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:34:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26643823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymmiah/pseuds/%EB%8B%98
Summary: What else would a beast do, other than to devour its feast when it hungers?Continuation of "and all is right in the world".
Relationships: Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light
Series: dotharli [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922356
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	the righteous will ever win

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a one shot but the foreplay on its own got to 3k words and I thought maybe, just maybe, it would be better to split this up into parts.

And so they descended from the Menagerie, Dotharl and Galvus, wreathed in the wounds and scars they have inflicted upon one another. Her clothes lay in tatters upon her form, and he lacked most of his armour. However, such matters mattered not, for the prince had a destination in mind and she was full eager to follow him.

Was it foolishness that had her follow after him so thoughtlessly? Mayhap so; she was his sworn enemy, his promised death--and yet in this moment, she felt not the need to slay him.

His touch had set alight a searing flame within her breast, and she would have it consume her first from within. In the ashes of this blaze would she finally claim her prize.

And what a prize it was: he was a spirit of war given hyuran form, a Garlean who embodied Dotharli lust for battle! There was not a single other reason for her fascination and prolonged entanglement with Zenos.

Mayhap another woman would have been pleased to have so captured the Garlean prince, but Kore cared naught for the princeliness of her prize--for what was an empire to her? She cared not for nations nor for wealth.

His station of birth was more an inconvenience, for she was instead enraptured by the quicksilver flash of his blade, the strength in his limbs and the lightning's spark of his bite as he sank his teeth deep into her flesh. To have possession of a thousand thousand nations would only serve to tear her from that for which her soul yearned.

One could consider them each souls that were equally broken, for delighting in such things. She cared not for whether she was broken or whole, sundered apart from the rest of the populace by her base desires. It brought her pleasure to know that the scars upon his body would belong to her.

Where she walked behind him, she could see that his arm continued to bleed sluggishly, though she had seen that his broken nose had ceased its crimson weeping. She knew that should she trail her eyes over his exposed skin, she would see that its former perfection was now marred with her teeth and claws, finally bearing scars that bespoke of their glorious battle--of a war that she had yet to win.

Her victory of said war was given. She would be victorious over Zenos, for she was Kore Dotharl and the Warrior of Light--failure had no purchase upon her.

And so, they walked, a huntress and a hunter, two beasts equally enamoured with the allure of war that the other so emanated.

They descended the sandstone steps of the palace, each footstep echoing in its empty hallways. Then, they strode down the midst of a cavernous space within the palace, its walls and floors yet slick with the signs of battle. Outside, she could yet hear how raged the Resistance and Garlean soldiers alike.

How her spirit yearned to join them in battle!

She reached out, grasping the back of his neck, digging her nails into the hard muscle enough that she would leave crimson indents in his skin.

And here he gave pause, stilling under her touch. The prince looked back at her through that curtain of gold hair, eyes flashing bright.

“Patience, my beast.” Zenos murmured, licentious desire lacing his every word. "We have yet to arrive at our destination."

Through her fingertips could she feel the thrum of his deep voice, and there was sparked that temptation to squeeze down--to feel that voice flutter and strain under her palm.

There would be time for that later.

Kore released his neck, grasping his shoulder instead. Broad and warm it was under her palm.

"Shut up," she replied.

She waited not for a response from him, thrusting forth her hand and slamming him against a wall. With her arm now braced across the front of his neck, she pinned him before her.

His hand had shot up to grip her wrist, and a terrifying grin had appeared upon his face.

She partook in that smile, leaning in to crush their lips together despite their differences in height.

Kore strained upon her toes' tips, and she could feel him release her wrist, his hands departing to grab her hair and around her waist. She was pulled up all the higher by his grip. Her feet touched not the floor, his large hands all the support required to keep her against him.

Strength; he had it in abundance, and this reminder of it spurred her forth. How could she not be so enticed by the firmness of his arms and chest? How could she not wish to devour every ilm of his body and take his strength for herself?

She kissed him as if to cannibalise him, taking from him hungrily with her lips and teeth and tongue, and he consumed her in turn, his fangs sharp against her lip. His tongue, wet and wily, slid against her own, and she nipped sharply at it.

The rusted tang of his blood filled her mouth; the taste of a wartorn field, drenched in iron and life. Avariciously, she chased after it, sucking upon the wound, drinking his essence with abandon.

She could hear his soft moaning, the thrum at the back of his throat, just as she could feel him stiffen once more against her thigh.

“Prince,” she murmured into his lips.

His eyes opened to flash at her, a burning emotion overtaking the limpid blue. “Beast,” was his reply, gruff and guttural.

She yet hung in the air, pressed to his body by the tight bondage of his arms around her body. She could feel the slickness of his spilled blood smear across her back, and she rather thought it a waste:

That wound belonged to a past battle, and the continued loss of his blood would only serve to weaken him. She wanted him at his best, such that when she kindled his body, the pyre of his bones would roar as if hell itself had come upon the earth.

Reaching into her tattered pockets, she closed her hand around a crystal. Though it was not her cane, it would serve enough as a focus for her aetheric energy.

A thought had her magic reach out and touch his wounded arm, the spell causing torn flesh to knit together once more. His Garlean skin, incapable though it was of magic, was far more receptive to spells than she could have thought.

And beyond her expectations, his reaction to her spells was strange.

He had jolted when her magic reached out, as if to throw her aside--but he had stayed his hand when it became apparent that this time, she sought not to harm. Rather, he had stilled, eyes widened.

Now, he stared at her silently. Fascination was evident upon his features as he dropped her to her feet, raising his arm to his eyes and twisting it back and forth. Zenos examined the former wound, touched the brown scars left behind by her teeth, and finally, his eyes fell upon her once more.

A most avaricious gleam crossed his features, and he raised his hand, now touching his tongue. It no longer bled, having scabbed over upon the touch of her spell to his skin. "Your magic will prove to be  _ useful _ ,” he murmured.

She reached up to pull at his hair, causing his lips to part into a snarling grin. “Indeed. I needn’t hold back against you,” she murmured.

He grabbed her once more, and slammed her against the wall to which he had only just been pinned. Her crown cracked against the sandstone, and though she hissed in pain, she stared back at him, eyes blazing with challenge.

She yet held him by his hair, and his head was tipped back by her fierce grip, exposing his throat to her eyes.

“Do it again, beast,” he hissed. His neck strained with his words, and the apple at his throat bobbed distractingly. Had she not been so pinned, she would have bit down upon it, torn it from his flesh.

Kore grinned at him, baring her sharp teeth at him. “Why?”

Zenos threw her against the wall once more, knocking the breath from her lungs with the force of the thrust. “I said, do it. Heal me. Use your aether against me."

Try as he might, his command held no command over her.

She laughed at him, throwing her disobedience and defiance to his face—and when he moved to slam her a third time against that sandstone wall, she curled and kicked at his chest. With a crack did her heel hit him, and he let out a gasp.

She had surely cracked a rib; he clutched at his side and stared at her with crazed eyes, lips peeling back in an ecstatic snarl.

"Only in battle does my soul sing," she hissed, grinning back at him. "Only in battle do you have any worth to me. Give me a reason to heal you."

"Then shall we dance, my beast!" Zenos' exclamation was fervent and he removed his hand from his side. Flexing his fingers, he watched her with his Resonant eyes.

All too suddenly, he rushed at her.

The golden sheet of his hair cut through the air just as sharply as his hands stretched for her, grabbing at her ankle even as she attempted to jump away.

No other words were spoken as they came together once more in battle: this was a war yet to be determined, her nails biting into his skin just as he twisted her limb, wrenching her body into awkward angles.

He attempted to catch her; she attempted to prevent it.

She kicked him away, darting away from him down the hallway--and the furious pound of his feet against the marble echoed after her.

Delightedly, she laughed, even as she tore monuments down in her path to hinder him.

Statues of Ala Mhigans past crumbled under her hands, bannerets and chests and pillars fragile enough were broken. They ran through the rubble, tearing history and art apart in their wake.

However, he knew the walls of this palace, and she did not. He subtly guided her through it, herding her deep within its depths.

And so, she managed to corner herself, cloistered against a sandstone wall as he approached her. His width seemed to span across the entire hallway, and she would have little opportunity to slip past him.

She tried nevertheless, throwing a vase at his head even as she dove to the side.

She was swiftly slammed into the floor and dragged towards him; though she put up a struggle, she let him bring her in close. And when she was close enough, she twisted in his grip. Her tail, barbed and just as much a weapon as her hands, and hit him solidly across his neck to wrap around it.

Zenos grabbed it, preventing it from tightening around his throat--but his distraction was all she needed.

Her hand yet clutched at her crystal, and it was enough to stir wind to snap his eyes, blinding him.

He released not her tail despite the blood that soaked his face, the innumerable cuts that now bisected his cheeks. Unerringly, his other hand now closed around hers, crushing the crystal within their palms.

He made not a move after, panting heavily where he crouched over her. His hair hung around them, a curtain of gold to entrap them within the moment.

"This is a transcendent joy, the likes of which I have never before known," he murmured, opening his eyes to gaze down at her. "Shall we while away our days eternally in this fashion?" He then asked, a smile upon his face. "Locked in our hunt, meeting one another time and time again in this decadent and glorious war… your soul bared to mine, and mine to yours. Would you accept this?"

With the crimson rivulets that framed his countenance, he was lovely, made lovelier in the reddened light of the dying day.

Her tail tightened momentarily around his neck, a choker of ebony scales. She then released him, and she stroked the length of his cheek with a delicate hand.

His was a glorious soul, a prize that was solely hers to claim.

"Yes," she murmured, the yearning in her voice making the word more akin to a moan. "I accept this."

Kore reached up to him with outstretched hands, in one fist bearing the shards of her crystal focus—and even as she grabbed him around his chest, she Cured him.

He let out a low groan, pleasure imbuing each gravelly edge of his voice, and he surged towards her.

With rough hands he spread her legs to either side and jammed himself between her thighs, crushing his chest to hers. She met his lips with her teeth, and even as she drew more blood, the wounds were sealed over the next heartbeat.

Her aether swelled within him, filling him from head to toe, and she could feel the void within him--utterly devoid of aught other than his lust.

Even after his shattered bones had healed, she continued to send her aether into him. His approval was earth-shattering: his fist, pounding against the floor as he writhed against her hands, shattered the marble upon which they lay.

Finally, she ceased the flow of aether into his skin, and he growled at her. It was soft, drawn-out in its frustration.

Zenos grabbed her by her hips, and he rutted against her, his hips colliding with her own with each insistent thrust. It was impossible not to notice that he was hard against her, stirred to an impossible degree by the mere touch of her magic. Kore, too, stirred--within her was a need that culminated in a physical shift within her groin, the blooming of a warmth she didn't quite want.

"More," he demanded, the red of his eyes overtaken by the cavernous width of his black pupils. "Show me more of you. _"_

She twisted her fingers into the fabric of his under-armour, that strangely supple carbonweave that he wore beneath his plates, and he pushed back against her touch, letting her drag the fabric up to expose his abdomen.

His skin there, pristine and pale and unmarked, begged for her touch.

"Oil," she reminded, even as she raked her nails down his skin, leaving angry red welts in her wake. She dug her claws in, watched how he trembled minutely even as she began to cut through his skin. "I will not have you within me until we have oil."

"Of course. I have not forgotten. But I will have you here, and again elsewhere, and again after that, my beast," Zenos' voice was a croon, and each breath of his could be felt beneath her palm. "Over and over until you claim my life, or I yours."

Sluggishly, crimson droplets dripped from her fingertips and down his skin, painting the contours of his abdomen with his vitality. He took hold of her wrist and pushed her hand firmly to his flesh, pressing her nails in deeper.

It seemed that he was alight with desire for her, and would have her touch in whatever form she gave it to him. That suited her fine.

"Already have I claimed your life." Kore wrenched her hand away from him and relished in his moan, just as much as she relished the taste of his Garlean blood upon her tongue. It was steel; the iron of their magitek imbued even their veins. She stared up at him, grinning as she licked his blood from her fingertips, the red now staining her lips and countenance. "Mayhap I will not allow you to have me at all, for you are mine to do with as I will."

"I will have you regardless!" Zenos snapped, though the cause of his ire was unknown whether by virtue of her words or her actions. He grabbed her by her thighs and forced them together to hook her knees over one shoulder. And when he rose, his great size had her body entirely raised off the floor, save for her head and neck.

One of his arms remained locked around her knees, keeping her fixed close to him, and his other hand grappled with his own clothing. He freed his cock from its confines and he dragged its weeping tip along the seam of her closed thighs. Through the thin fabric of her shorts, she could feel his warmth, the stickiness of his fluids soaking the cloth.

His intentions were clear; she parted her thighs enough that the head of his cock could slip in between, and he promptly thrust forth. It became clear that his size would fill her indeed when they had finally secured enough oil for him to enter her. Even with his hips flush against her backside, the tip of his cock flirted with her navel; she was most eager to know how it would feel.

Nonetheless, the sight of his member jutting forth between her thighs was a jarring image--but it would be difficult to mistake his cock for her own, pale and pink as it was.

She squeezed her legs together, and felt how he shook, throbbing against her.

"Yes, tighter still," he muttered, arm gripping her knees all the harder as he began to fuck her thighs, seeming to care not for the friction of her shorts against his skin.

Each thrust was slow, harsh, and his hips slapped against the back of her thighs with each push forwards. Solely by his grip upon her did she stay in place.

His cock slipped back and forth as he moved, its pink head piercing through the seam of her legs and dripping his fluids onto her belly. Each thrust had him grind up against her, each molten ilm that dragged against her sparking a pleasure that was far too intentional on Zenos' part. His hand pressed down on the head of his cock, holding it flush to her groin.

She cursed and jolted at the sensation, unable to hold back her own reaction now that his member was flush against her own, the singular touch coaxing her own cock into hardness.

Kore had forbidden him from touching her directly; he, sly and cunning he, had found a new way to do so indirectly. She grit her teeth, grabbing him by his wrist even as he stroked himself, stroking her beneath him.

"You bastard," she hissed.

Try as she might, she could not deny the gradual build of tension within herself. She pulled not his hand away, allowing him to keep them pressed to one another.

"I see you have no complaints, my huntress." He pressed his palm flat against the top of his cock, and bore down against hers with that near painful ecstasy of friction. "Take me and show me your pleasure."

He held her aloft, and he fucked her thighs with the tireless strength of a raging bull; he gazed down upon her with a voracious light in his eyes, and she would consume him just as eagerly as he consumed her.

There was a raging flame between her legs, the heat of his cock against hers, the weight of his body slamming against her backside, causing her body to rock back with each thrust. She tightened her grip upon his wrist the closer she came to her end, digging her nails deeper into his skin in place of a moan.

And when she finally reached her limit, she let out a gasp, shuddering from head to toe, body curling from the force of her release--and how it consumed her! His hands on her were levin, and she was the earth, scorched where he touched her.

Her seed seeped from the fabric of her shorts, but she paid it no mind: the sharp bite of her claws and her writhing seemed enough to end him.

He let out a soft sigh and spilled his seed across her chest, upon her face, threads of pearlescent white staining her where they landed--and he dropped her, causing her to slump onto the floor in a momentary stupor.

In his wake, she was left soiled by the aftermath of their pleasure, and there he knelt between her legs, pristine save for the dust and blood that clung to his visage. His softened cock yet twitched, spent but readying once more.

"Get up," Zenos purred. "This was only just the start."

**Author's Note:**

> Winks and shamelessly promotes the Azem fanzine, The Sun's Journey, that I'm modding @ [FFXIVAzemZine](https://twitter.com/FFXIVAzemZine). Applications are closed, but please await future news!
> 
> I'm also found on Twitter @ [nymmiah](https://twitter.com/nymmiah), where I occasionally upload sketches and ideas.


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